


Off The Clock

by LulaIsAKitten



Series: StrikeFicExchange prompts [10]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Smut, Valentine's Day Fic Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:40:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22679596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/pseuds/LulaIsAKitten
Summary: Strike just needs five minutes on the phone to reorganise work. Robin has other ideas.
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Series: StrikeFicExchange prompts [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1368862
Comments: 8
Kudos: 53
Collections: Love Letters: A Cormoran Strike Valentine's Day Fest





	Off The Clock

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [StrikeLoveLetters](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/StrikeLoveLetters) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Off the Clock

“Yeah, so if you could take Redhead this morning—” Strike held the phone away from his ear, grinning and mock-glaring at Robin, trying to wriggle away from her lips as they roved across his chest. He put the phone back to his ear. “Sorry, Barclay. She has an early Pilates class, so you can pick her up at the gym in an hour and see where she goes from there.”

He paused, listening, leaning back on the pillows, his head resting against the wall of his flat. Today would have to be the day Barclay had a string of questions for him. Tousle-haired, Robin resumed her exploration of his chest, running her fingers through his copious hair, following on with her mouth. Her freckled, creamy shoulder was just below his chin; he could have leaned forward and licked her. Strike closed his eyes as waves of desire rolled through him, trying to concentrate on his contractor on the other end of the line. “Mm-hm. Yeah, I think I’m going to have to come in on that case, too. Needs an extra pair of hands.”

A faint groan escaped him as Robin moved lower, her hand sliding under the bedclothes that were pulled up to his hips, sheet and blanket tangled from their night’s exertions. He cleared his throat hurriedly to cover the sound. “Listen, Sam, we can discuss this later in the week—” His hand shot out to grab Robin’s through the covers as he felt her making her way to where his straining erection was tenting the sheet, holding her at bay. “Uh-huh. Yup. Yeah, I’ll be on my mobile if you need me. Thanks.”

He pressed the screen to end the call and set his phone down on the bed. Robin grinned impishly up at him.

“Ellacott, you minx,” he growled, leaning forward to kiss her. Her lips met his eagerly, her tongue sliding into his mouth. He kissed her thoroughly, his tongue plundering her, exploring, wanting nothing more than to give in to the desire running like molten lead through his veins, but then he reluctantly drew away. “You have to let me make these calls. I’m trying to buy us a morning to stay right here.”

Robin shifted to the side and rolled lazily onto her back, stretching her arms above her head, enjoying the way his eyes roved hungrily across her breasts. “I know,” she said languidly. “Not my fault you decided to finally pull me on a Sunday night.”

Strike snorted a laugh and picked up his phone again, scrolling through his contacts for Hutchins’ number. “Can you behave for five minutes while I pass watching Platinum’s club to Andy?”

She grinned, her tongue peeking out to lick across her lower lip. “Maybe.”

Strike dragged his eyes back to his phone. “Two minutes.” He dialled the number. He listened to the ring, grabbing Robin’s hand again as it sneaked back under the sheet and stroked across his thigh, making him shudder. She sat up, a wicked look in her eye, and pulled his free hand to her breast, turning his palm and pressing her soft, creamy flesh into it. Strike moaned a little and slid his hand across her, feeling her nipple harden against the roughness of his palm. He would never, ever tire of finally being allowed to touch her gorgeousness, of the impossible softness of her skin.

“Andy, hi. Strike.” He dragged his attention back to the phone call. “Yeah, good, thanks, you?”

Sat up, Robin had two hands free and Strike only had one available until he put the phone down. He was unable to stop her sliding the sheet down to his knees, freeing him to her gaze. She eyed his erection, hunger and a hint of wicked naughtiness in her face. She reached for him, and Strike was obliged to remove his hand from its exploration of her breast to seize her wrist. She pouted at him and he glared again, grinning. He ached for her touch, needed to get off the phone as fast as possible.

“Yeah, listen, I’m just rearranging the diary for this morning, wondered if you could take Platinum,” he said. He held Robin’s hand away from his groin, but was unable to stop her moving the other to his knee. He watched, mesmerised, as she slid slowly upwards, her fingers sliding to his inner thigh, her hand creeping up...

“Yeah, it’s just a case of sitting in that cafe opposite the Spearmint Rhino and making sure she does the full shift,” he said. “Boring, I know—” He couldn’t take his eyes off Robin’s hand as it inched slowly closer to where he desperately wanted it. His thighs fell apart, aching for her to move that hand higher, but she stilled, her fingers resting lightly on his leg, unmoving.

“I think she’s meant to start at ten. Yeah, I know.” Why had Robin stopped? She grinned up at him wickedly, watching him, waiting for him to end the call.

So aroused he ached, Strike dropped his head back against the wall, gazing up at the skylight in the ceiling of his tiny flat. “Yeah, ten till four I think she’s due to do today. Keep the cafe receipts for expenses.”

He was utterly unprepared for her mouth on him, thought she was waiting for him to finish on the phone. His hips jerked involuntarily, and a fierce curse escaped him. Eyes wide, he gazed down at her as she lowered her head over him, those soft lips enveloping the head of his cock, her tongue teasing.

“Fuck! Sorry, Andy. No, I—I spilled my coffee. Fuck...” Robin had raised her mouth almost off him, then slid back down, taking him deeper.

“No, I’m fine.” Strike’s voice was a strangled gasp. “Just need to clean up a bit. Yeah, thanks, Andy. Bye.”

He threw the phone aside and dropped his head back with a deep groan, pleasure flooding him as Robin began to move in earnest.


End file.
